Page 41 of Kings Against the World

Given some of the recent tensions and misunderstandings, I’m taking it as a not-so-subtle message. If I toe out of line, if I incur Boone’s wrath, I’ll be next.

The guards eventually tire of beating McDonald once he loses consciousness and goes still. They grab him by the back of his shirt collar and then drag him away, probably for the nearest exit where he’ll be tossed out like trash.

“Well, that was damn entertaining!” Boone laughs. He reaches for his drink and raises it up. “Cheers to a clean, fair, successful tournament!”

We toast to that, glasses chinking against each other.

It’s not lost on me how ironic it is Boone’s taking a stand on stealing and cheating when the whole tournament’s a crock of shit. He’s set things up to cheat and take millions for himself. I’m being used as a vessel for him to do it.

Maybe that’s why he wants to send the messaging he has.

“Anyway,” Boone says, looking to Benz, “tell me you’ve got things in order. That the real show’s about to start?”

Benz nods and finally takes his seat at our table. “We had a last minute issue, but all the girls are ready.”

The bottle girls who had once been frequent on the floor are gone. I glance around noticing how there’s only two left still serving drinks. Neither of which are Zoe.

Music fills the lounge a second later, commanding everyone’s attention. It’s a slow, sensuous beat that’s accompanied by dimmer lights and fog rolling across the large, T-shaped stage. Some of the audience in the lounge hoot and whistle in anticipation.

My stomach clenches as the first silhouettes of girls appear and I realize what’s going on. As each girl poses next to a pole, a blue-tinted neon light is shone on her. Six different poles, six different girls. The light shines on the final girl at the same time I realize who it’ll be.

Zoe—on stage right in front of me.

12

ZOE

I’ve never been morenervous in my life.

I’m not someone who gets nervous. The nerves that most people describe turn into adrenaline for me and give me so much energy that being nervous is impossible. I’m too busy being high off the rush to pay attention to any stomach quakes or sabotaging thoughts about what could possibly go wrong.

But as I take the stage with the rest of the girls, I’m flooded with nerves. I feel nauseous and anxious all at once, suddenly unsteady in my heels.

Sugar smiles at me from my left as the music starts and she strikes a pose.

I do the same, placing a hand on my hip and facing forward. The difference is the rest of the girls working for Benz are dancers. Some like Sugar often double as bottle girls at Déjà Vu, but all of them have been strippers or some other kind of dance performers.

I have no dance background. I’ve never eventoucheda stripper pole let alone gyrated against one.

You never should’ve lied on your fake resume.

It’s true that when Benz was interviewing me, I mentioned I did some stripping freshmen year of college. I told him I was comfortable in an environment like Déjà Vu Gentleman’s Club because I needed the job for my undercover operation.

I probably should’ve realized that eventually there could come a time where Benz asked me to get on stage.

When he told me I was going on due to Starr’s absence, he said I wouldn’t have to do any tricks. This was just supposed to be a sensuous opening number to kick off the tournament’s party and get everybody in the mood. Then I would be able to return to serving drinks.

“You can do this,” I whisper to myself. “Just… just move around the pole.”

I’m not a woman who often tries to be sexy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t knowhowto be.

If I move my hips and touch my body, most men will be distracted enough they probably won’t notice I’m not a dancer. I’ve done pretty damn good so far posing as Jade, strutting around serving drinks and earning tips.

The dark, sensual beat builds and fog rolls across the stage. One by one, the spotlight falls on a different girl situated across the stage. I take a deep breath as the light shines on Sugar, who’s second to last, and she does a loose swing around the pole.

I’m next.

The instant the blue-tinted light’s on me, I tune out the faces in the crowd. My gaze settles on some indistinct point in the distance and I let my hips sway to the slow, seductive beat. Trying not to think too much about it, I bite my lip and feel the music.

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